


Love Bites

by Roadstergal



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: Attraction, Bad Matchmaking, Cleaning, Depression, Friendship, Gapfillerpalooza, Gen, Jealousy, Loss, Love, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Homosexuality, Male-Female Friendship, Matchmaking, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other, Party, Siblings, Unresolved Sexual Tension, shwarma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-07-24 17:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16179950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: Everyone in Avengers Tower thinks they know what's going on, and who's interested in whom.  Shuri is the only one who actually does know. But she's enjoying the spectacle of Steve and T'Challa mistakenly trying to play matchmaker too much to actually correct anyone.A gapfiller for the various episodes in Black Panther's Quest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Kahvi for the beta, and for bouncing a few ideas off of.

"That was an odd evening," Steve noted, leaning on the countertop in that way he had - easy, relaxed, but with a sense he could snap to action in an instant.

"Alien invasion, strange technology, _us_ saving the day - about what you'd expect, really." Tony grabbed half a sandwich from the fridge.  Probably Clint's, but Tony had paid for it in one way or another.  He took a bite, re-wrapped it, and put it back, then turned back to Steve's disapproving look.  "You're not happy about letting Tiger Shark go, either?"

"No, I don't like it."  Steve frowned. "But it was T'Challa's call."

Tony put his hands on the countertop as well.  Solid, cool marble.  It grounded him, made this place feel slightly more real.  There was, of course, no way to tell how long he had been in the dimension without technology, and things had gotten a little blurry when the Beyonder had pulled him from it - particularly since Ultron had come roaring back before the Beyonder shut him down and _might still be out there_ ... _still be in him_ ... regardless, it made everything feel a bit unreal, like he might blink and find himself back on Battleworld, alone, recovered from the brief burst of madness that had made him think he was back _home_.  Grabbing things, solid things, helped.  He ran his hands back and forth on it.  "I put a tracker on her.  Bit last-minute, though. Even if it survives the water pressure, they might find it and destroy it anyway."

"Her?" Steve blinked at Tony.

"Uh, yeah - really big, didn't have claspers, looked like a girl shark to me."  Tony shrugged.  Not that it mattered massively either way when the creature in question had teeth that could penetrate vibranium.

"Well, let me know if you find anything out. I'm dying to know what's going on with... uh... them.  Wait, where are you going?" Steve frowned as Tony's suit assembled on him.  It was still fairly battered from the fight, but it didn't need to be 100% for where Tony was going.

"The Wakandan embassy.  It's a total mess."  He dismissed some red diagnostics warnings and put up his flight HUD.

"Tony - everyone was evacuated, they don't need emergency rescue.  You just got back!  Have some food, some sleep.  Wait for the morning - there will be more light, and crews to help you out."

"That's exactly why I want to go now!" Tony waved, irate.  He wasn't exactly a team player, was he, despite his best efforts, and every so often, it felt good just to do something himself.  "I can clean up without anyone getting in my way."

"Then take me with you," Steve said, firmly, pulling his hood back over his head.

Tony would never tell Steve outright that it felt awfully nice to take the man in his arms, rather than to be surfed like a goddam longboard the way T'Challa did it.  Steve was a proper, _straight_ 1940s man, after all, with a proper, _straight_ hopeless lost love from his own time.  And Tony had met her. She was very... very much... the type of girl Steve would fall for.  _Should_ fall for.  Pretty, spirited, lethal, perfect hair, a very womanly face and body.  That was the person Steve wanted rhapsodizing to him about how he looked, how he felt, how he _smelled_.

* * *

"What a mess." Tony reluctantly set Steve down at the edge of the wreckage.  He had come to really enjoy Steve's proximity.  That wasn't a good development, but it wasn't exactly a new one, either.

"Tony," Steve sighed, looking around at the pile of partial structure and partial rubble that used to be an embassy.  "There's no way we can even make a _dent_ in this before morning."

"No... I was thinking, though, I can clean up anything that looks radioactive or otherwise dangerous, and seal off the supply lines, and you can buttress up the entrances so the cleanup crews can start safely tomorrow."

"Tony," Steve said, pointing a finger, "are you going to steal some Wakandan tech?" His tone of voice was disapproving.

"Steve!" Tony dissolved his helmet.  " _Steal_ is such an ugly word.  Besides, T'Challa has been spying on Stark tech!  I's only fair..."

"I'm not going to be a party to that!" Steve stepped close, ominously.

"Well, no, of course not, that's why I had you buttressing up the entrances..."

"Tony." Steve grabbed Tony's wrist with a grip like, well, iron. "Could you stop being... yourself for just one night?"

Even with the suit on, pulling away without Steve letting go of his own volition wasn't a given.  "Not really, Steve - if I weren't me, I'd be someone else, and that someone else would be really upset, you know?"

"You drive me crazy, you know."  Steve reluctantly let go.

That was the story of Tony's life, wasn't it.  Driving Steve crazy in every way he didn't want to, not in the way he did.  "Look, I'm just trying to do something nice for T'Challa.  Guy builds an embassy here, and some New York fish mess it up?  Not cool, not a welcoming sort of thing!  I want to make it up to him."

"Yeah - he's your _buddy_ , I hear," Steve said, slyly.

"What, he's an Avenger, we're Avengers, he's our buddy, right?"

"Yeah, _buddy_." Steve squeezed his shoulder hard enough to make the metal creak.  "Well.  Better get to work, then." 

* * *

 "Tony." Steve's voice sounded in his ear.

"One sec." Tony fused the gash in a damaged water pipe with a carefully applied heat beam, stopping the seeping. "Okay, what's up?"

"It's getting light.  I'm ready for a break, what about you?"

Tony straightened up, then yelled "Ow!" as his back spasmed.  "Okay, I guess I am, too," he sighed.  They had, as Steve had predicted, made only a barely-visible dent in the mess.

"We made a good start," Steve told him as he flew back to the main walkway, flanked by formerly elegant, now sadly smoking topiary.  "Your _buddy_ T'Challa is going to be happy."

"Totally." Well, he'd better be happy when he saw the tech Tony left behind, like a good boy.  "No chance _you_ could fly us home this time?" he asked Steve.

"Hey, this was your idea." Steve stretched out his hands with a grin.

It was, wasn't it.  And he hadn't planned on bringing Steve along, but how could he turn the man down?  Despite his exhaustion, it felt so damn good to pick up Steve's big, solid body.  And maybe it made Steve feel like there was some proper distance between the two of them, with Tony in the suit - some degree of straight-man separation.  For Tony, though, the suit _was_ him, more than it had ever been.  He had picked up a few tricks, wandering around Battleworld, observing the Beyonder's work, coming up with new designs in a build-and-test cycle that was distressingly short, thanks to the more violent denizens.  The suit wasn't just metal anymore; it was an extension of his body.  He could feel Steve as if he were wearing nothing.  "Look at that sunrise."

"A good old New York sunrise." Steve leaned into his chest as they flew to get a better view.  "I never got to see this view when I was a kid.  Even when I got onto roofs in my neighborhood, I was never this high up."

"Better view than the one from the tower, even." It pleased Tony to an absurd extent whenever he did something that impressed Steve.  He had learned not to question it, just enjoy it.  Again, the surreality hit.  He was carrying Steve close to him, flying into a gorgeous sunrise.  This was definitely a red flag for _something Tony would just dream up_.

"I met someone at the party, before you showed up," Steve said, slyly, as Tony deposited him carefully on the landing pad. "I thought _you_ were the CEO of Stark Industries."

"You did? Seriously?" Tony staggered into the room that still had the cups and plates that marked a party strewn around on every flat surface, sending his armor to the lab and collapsing on a couch.  "Do you really think any company could survive _me_ as CEO?  I put it in the kind of hands that make shareholders happy."

"Potts?  That was her name?  She's very pretty."  Steve stood in front of the couch, looking down at Tony with his typical unreadable expression on his perfect, square-jawed face, his helmet pulled away from his deliciously messy sandy-blonde hair.

Tony blinked up blearily at Steve, those stunning blue eyes. This was definitely a dream.  A regular one, or an insane fever dream, he'd sort it out later.  So no need to hold his tongue.  "I guess so.  I like men.  Romantically, I mean.  That's legal nowadays." His eyes fluttered shut and he passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

"Captain," T'Challa said, looking over the block-sized mess instead of at Steve.  "Substantial work has been done here since yesterday."

"Yeah."  Steve scratched the back of his neck.  He had left Tony passed out on the couch, and ridden that newfangled motorcycle Tony had bought him over to the embassy.  It was far faster and more comfortable than his own, he had to admit, the one he had chucked at Tiger Shark.  "Tony and I thought we could get a little done overnight, to help you guys get a start today."  Construction crews were clearing rubble and adding to the bracing he had put into place.

T'Challa turned towards him.  The man really was excessively handsome, Steve noted, especially in a fine dark suit, tailored to cling perfectly to his muscular body.  "This is Wakandan ground, Captain.  Entering and working here unauthorized was, technically, trespassing. An international crime."

"Sorry, I know we should have asked..."

"Tony would not have, I know.  Thank you for going with him, for keeping an eye on him."

"Whatever I can do." Steve could see why Tony would be infatuated with this man.  And he could see how someone like Tony would be incredibly bad at expressing his infatuation, and do it in frustrating, self-sabotaging ways.  It was, he had to admit, tempting to just stand back and let that self-sabotage happen - but that would be giving in to the weak, petty parts of his nature, the ones that wanted Tony to be attracted to _Steve_ , not T'Challa.  But he wasn't stupid enough to think that thwarting one attraction would turn it conveniently to him.  Steve squared his shoulders.  He would do the right thing.  "I didn't have to keep him from doing anything.  He didn't even _try_ to do anything untoward.  He really did just want to help, T'Challa - he likes you."

T'Challa cocked his head curiously.  "Really."

"Yes, absolutely.  And..." The idea came to Steve in a flash.  Tony had said, during their night-time work, that he was cleaning out the extra guest rooms in case T'Challa and Shuri needed them. "That party for Shuri was interrupted as soon as it had started.  Why don't you come back tonight?  Be our guests, treat our place like yours while the embassy is getting fixed up - we have extra guest rooms.  I know Tony would love to show Shuri around the lab." Those two would get along disturbingly well, really, and it would only put T'Challa more at ease with Tony.

"You give me much to think about, Captain.  But yes, if you are amenable - perhaps we will visit you this evening.  But I will yield to Iron Man's suggestion that it be a more informal affair.  Pizza..." a wry smile played at his lips, "and we will bring the beverages.

He _did_ like Tony, didn't he.  Steve tried his utmost to feel happy about it.  "Well, we'll see you later tonight.  Feel free to be as informal as you want, just show up!  You and Shuri."

T'Challa nodded and grasped Steve's hand with a firm grip.  "Until tonight, Captain."

* * *

Shuri watched her brother shake Captain America's hand, then the latter get onto his motorcycle (a brand new Vitpilen 701 - it could only be an impulse purchase by Tony, the sort of random gift he'd give to someone when he couldn't just say he liked them) and ride away.  Only then did Shuri hop nimbly across a few piles of debris to join her brother.  "What was _that_ about?" she asked in Xhosa.

"The Captain was explaining the uninvited presence here last night.  And speaking of invitations," he grinned at her, "we have been invited to a more informal welcome party for you at the Tower tonight."

"Oh, thank goodness!  I _hated_ wearing that dress." She grinned.

"They have extended their hospitality to the guest rooms at the Tower, while the Embassy is repaired.  Also." His hands twisted slightly against each other.  Shuri paid more attention. This was a different sort of brother than she was used to.  A nervous one, one who was struggling for words.  "I'm not sure this was an entirely idle invitation.  He seemed to be implying that Iron Man had some... interest in you.  Of a... romantic nature."

Shuri paused, her mouth open.  Did he really think... how could he not see... oh god. _Romantic Nature_.  Shuri almost choked on her laughter, swallowing it down with effort, making it look like a different sort of repressed emotion.  "Oh... do you think he likes me?" She looked at him with big eyes and a ingenuous face.  "You think he really likes me?"

"Oh, so it's mutual, is it?" He looked at her with a delightful mix of fondness and discomfort.  Gods, she adored her brother, and his weak spots where she was concerned that let her prank him was one of the reasons why she did.  "Well, I'm your big brother, you know, I have to be protective of you."

"I know. You take good care of me."  She punched him in the shoulder hard enough to make him cringe.  "I will dress very nicely tonight, and we will spend some days there while they repair the embassy.  And maybe he will keep me warm at night while you are off hunting Tiger Shark."

"Shuri!" It was hard for skin as dark as T'Challa's to visibly blush, and Shuri was always very pleased with herself when she managed it.

"Oh, come on, brother, would I buy a car without taking a test drive first?"  She laughed as he cringed at the mental image, then ran back to the ruins of the lab.  She needed to salvage a few things before the construction crew made even more of a mess of it.


	3. Chapter 3

"Shuri." T'Challa nudged his sister with his arm. She still seemed slightly bewildered by the gathering - possibly due to Miss Marvel's commentary, which had been, as far as T'Challa could tell, quite literally breathless and nonstop.  Was _that_ a super power of the Inhumans?  Nevertheless, much as he would have liked to _not_ facilitate this, it was his sister's wish, and he was, as always, wrapped around her little finger.  "Why not ask Tony to show you his laboratory?" She was always happier in the lab, and there was nothing more attractive than Shuri when she was happy.

" An excellent idea, brother!"  This sounded far more fun than standing around with a can of soda making small talk.  She extricated herself from the pair of Marvels with some vague excuses and skipped over to where Tony was trying painfully hard - and unsuccessfully - to flirt with Steve.  Shuri would have felt bad for him, but it was far too amusing to see how Tony's awkwardness fed Steve's obliviousness.  How long had they been doing this dance?

"Shuri!" Steve greeted her with some relief, interrupting an anecdote about nanoprocessors that he didn't seem to be enjoying as much as Tony was.  "You look lovely."

"Of course I do, these are my third-best jeans.  Tony!  My brother told me I should ask you for a tour of the lab."  She watched his eyes flicker to Steve.  No, that was no good.  She... she really should help him out, shouldn't she, before he ruined his chances altogether.  She took his arm in hers.  She had seen him many times, at conventions and on the television, but in person, he seemed so much smaller.  He was fit enough, but compared to T'Challa and Steve, his slenderness seemed out of place.  Almost delicate.  "Come! I saw your talk on neurointegration in Zurich last year.  I have some follow-up questions around synaptic messengers that you ducked at the time..." 

Ah, yes, that worked; he moved towards the lab almost instinctively, her in tow. "I didn't duck them! I just didn't want to give too much away.  You signed that NDA when T'Challa joined the Avengers, right?"

* * *

"The alloy is amazing," she noted, holding up the metal arm, watching it shift and move like skin as she finessed the controls.  "Especially if it has comparable durability to your suit.  But your links are not. What good is tech of this quality, if your brain cannot control it?"

"Yeah, I'm working on that." Tony grabbed for it.  She let him take it.

"You're working on it very badly.  If you would enter in to a partnership with me on prosthetics, we would make great advancements."  She had not the same skills with metal, but she was far better at the brain side.

"What's your angle on that, princess?" He grinned.  He really was a different person in the lab - calmer, more confident, happier.  _Natural_.

"We have a great need for prosthetics. Doesn't everyone?  Those who have lost the use of their limbs through illness or accident cost money and time to care for, and do not live the quality of life they desire. The better the prosthetics we can provide, the more we will help them live their full potential.  But!" She waved her finger at him. "We are a civilized country, we will not pay American prices.  That's what I need in exchange for working with you."

Tony shrugged.  "Potts deals with the money side of things, I don't touch it.  You'd have to talk to her."

Shuri cringed.  Pepper Potts was notorious for being very difficult to bargain with.  Still, if she wrote the conditions into a _research_ agreement with Tony, and bypassed the woman until it was too late - yes, she would work that out.  "Excellent." She walked to a work bench, pulling up a set of blueprints - a new suit, it seemed, was he obsessed? - on a projector that was not dissimilar from Wakandan tech.  "I enjoy your lab.  More than the party, really."

He leaned over her shoulder.  "Don't tell anyone else, but I do, too."

"My brother thinks I'm attracted to you and wish to snare you as a husband."  She had to laugh at the look of horror that briefly crossed Tony's face as he jumped away.  "He's wrong, but it's great fun to pretend!"

"Oh good.  I mean... oh.  He thinks..."  Tony grabbed some tools off of a nearby bench, juggling them nervously. "He thinks I'm only trying to be his friend to get to _you_?"

"Yes.  Isn't it delightful!" She giggled.  "But no, I know better.  I know how you feel about Steve."

Tony dropped the tools on the floor with a clatter.  "You - I - is it obvious?"

"It is to me, yes, but apparently not to my brother.  Or Steve." She frowned.  "You really are a very bad flirt, you know."

Tony looked vaguely offended.  "No, I don't know.  What do you mean?  I'm very good at it!  Girls are always trying to go out with me!"

"Yes, because you're rich." His face fell.  Did he really not know how that all worked?  No wonder he wasn't the CEO.  "They don't care about you.  Steve, however, does not care about your money or station."

"Uh."  Tony sat on the edge of a bench, his face falling farther.  "So that's why.  Why he... uh."  He made a lame attempt to regroup with a joke.  "You don't happen to have any... Wakandan... make-a-guy-want-you juju, do you?"

"No. You must have him like you for who you are."

"Well," Tony sighed, "I'm hosed."


	4. Chapter 4

Ah.  That's where _Iron Man_ was, clearing away the dishes from the party.  His biggest appearance since Shuri had turned up.  "What was that about?" Steve asked, walking over to Tony with ground-eating strides.

Tony tossed the last few dishes in the sink for the nanobots to take care of. "That was a party, Steve.  I know you're not very familiar with them, but..."

"Tony!" Steve interrupted.  "You know what I mean!  You disappeared into the lab with Shuri for an hour and a half.  T'Challa had to go looking for her when it was time for them to leave."  Steve had gone to all that trouble to get T'Challa to come by, and Tony had gotten cold feet and hidden out in the lab with Shuri!  Really, what was the point in trying, with a man that wouldn't even accept help?

"She's easy to talk to."  Tony leaned on the counter, his hands playing with it in a way that Steve found endlessly distracting, thinking about what other things those hands might be capable of.

"And T'Challa isn't."  Tony was _into_ the man enough that he got tongue-tied?  It took a lot to tongue-tie Tony.  Certainly, Steve had never learned the knack.

"Well, you know, he's..." Tony waved.  "King.  Big man.  Naughty cat.  He's my buddy, don't get me wrong, but..."

Steve schooled himself to calm.  He was _trying_ to do the right thing, but Tony made everything more difficult, even _that_. "He's easier to talk to than you might think, you know."

* * *

Easier to talk to than he might think, eh.  "Want a drink?" Tony asked, pouring himself one.

"A virgin Bloody Mary," Steve replied.  Tony could swear Steve blushed slightly at the word _virgin_.  A good boy, Steve.  Why had Tony thought he might be interested in _Tony_?  No, he was regretting his dead-tired confession already.  It was too much to hope Steve had forgotten - Steve never forgot anything.  "We talked a lot while you were off in the lab," Steve continued as he sipped at his spicy tomato juice.  "Details of governance, the challenges of diplomacy as an emerging world power..."

"Oh, I wouldn't know anything about that," Tony interrupted, blandly.  Steve... Steve _did_ like T'Challa, didn't he.  "I avoid diplomacy whenever possible."

"No, it's not your thing," Steve agreed.  "But it's not a natural skill, you know.  T'Challa told me that he's been working at it for a long time..."

Tony did something a little different.  He shut up for a moment and listened to Steve talk about T'Challa.  _Enthuse_ about T'Challa.  Talk about the guy the way Tony wanted to hear him talk about _Tony_.  Well, it sucked, but it was clear enough, wasn't it.  "Okay, got it, he's awesome," Tony finally interjected, testily.

"Yeah.  And, Tony..." Steve fiddled with his juice.  "Wakanda is a pretty progressive place.  They don't really have institutional prejudices against... you know, gay people and the like." He looked back up at Tony, huffing a little laugh. "I'm coming from a time when it was literally illegal, so it's a bit of a change."

"I get it!"  Tony waved.  "I get it."  Steve was getting used to the idea that it was okay to be gay.  To be who he was.  And T'Challa just accepted it, because he was more awesome than anyone else.  His suit was almost as good as Tony's, he was far more fit and handsome, and his heart worked properly, on top of all of that.  That rankled, massively, but could he really blame Steve?  Tony drained his drink and tossed the glass in the sink.  The nanobots projected unhappy little comments in his ear about the need to repair it.  "Well, awesome news, yeah?"  Steve nodded.  "I'm gonna go work on... things..."  Tony stalked back off to the lab.  Making a more powerful suit always made him feel better.


	5. Chapter 5

“Sorry, Tony,” Clint said, tightly, “did I not pronounce _they ruined our research station, corrupted a scientist we both had kind of a shine for, and created a new supervillain_ correctly?”

“I got it.” Tony played with the pen in his hands, his brow furrowed.  The dude was different after Battleworld, Clint thought for the umpteenth time.  He had always been a weirdo, but nowadays, he seemed… disconnected from the world.  Like it was a video game he was playing.  Like the people involved weren’t _people_ – or more like _he_ wasn’t a _people_ anymore.  “But it’s Cap.”

“Yeah, it’s Cap!  The guy who ran off with T’Challa to start his own Secret Avengers!”  Clint yelled, frustrated.

Tony sat back in his chair, tossing his pen on the table.  “We have to trust him.”

“I’m sorry, _we_?”  Clint bent over the table, glaring at Tony.  “I don’t know what happened to you, Tony, but this makes no sense.  We have two ex-Avengers running rogue.  We have umpteen potential international incidents looming at a time when we’re trying to make happy peace time with old enemies!  And that’s not _my_ thing,” he leaned back, shrugging, “I’m fine with _not_ making peace with the Atlanteans.  But that’s _your_ baby, and you don’t seem to care…”

“I care!  But what am I supposed to do?”  Tony frowned at him.  “Go _after_ Cap?  Bring him in?”

“You’re gonna have to go after Cap sometime.”  Clint folded his arms. “T’Challa has corrupted him.  He won’t even talk to me anymore.  Your decision is – are you gonna go after Cap now, or later?  Now, when there’s still a chance of bringing him back to the fold, or later, when T’Challa has messed him up beyond all help?  When you might end up fighting _him_?”  There.  That was both accurate – and dramatic.  His job was done.

Clint stalked off to the kitchen.  He needed a very large, very spicy sandwich.

 

* * *

 

If there was one thing he could say about T’Challa, Steve pondered, it was that he was _honorable_.

If there were two, it was to add on that he was driven.

If he had to expand it to three, it was that he was an absolute genius with technology. And really, when you put the three of them together, it made him a perfect match for Tony, didn’t it.  Maybe it was petty to think in these terms, but when he was lying awake, jetlagged in the middle of the night, in a comfortable Wakandan bed, with the quiet noises of a highly advanced technology humming around him, his mind was free to wander – and this was a place it seemed to like to end up.

Perhaps he was a gossipy teenage girl at heart. There was nothing wrong with that, really.  He had loved Bucky, and now Bucky was gone, hopelessly and terminally corrupted despite his best efforts.  He had loved Tony, but Tony did not love him, and Steve had finally come to accept that.  But T’Challa and Tony – now that was an interesting, volatile, but in the end, _good_ match, wasn’t it?  They were both hellaciously intelligent.  They were both so excessively _moral_ it was almost comical.

Yet they were at odds, at the moment.  And that bothered Steve.  They really shouldn’t be – but Tony had made his choice, and his choice made him beholden to interests that had little to do with him, and little to do with being _moral_.

Steve had to fix this, once the Key was complete, once the Shadow Council was defeated.  It had to be possible.  If there was anything Steve had learned over time, it was to hold on to what was _right_ as a possibility, even when it seemed to go against all reality.

They would prevail.  The powers of good.  He would help T’Challa, and once they were victorious, he would smooth out relations between T’Challa and Tony, and make peace.

He had to believe it was all possible, in the end.


	6. Chapter 6

_Dearly beloved.  This is an unusual way of opening a eulogy, but I should have been officiating a wedding between Captain Rogers and the ruler of Wakanda…_

Tony scratched it out, irritably.  This _writing on a pad of paper_ business was not his style, but it was Steve’s style, and it was Steve’s damn eulogy…

You wrote a eulogy for people who were dead.  So Steve was dead.

That was the point where, once again, Tony’s brain shut down.  Steve was dead, and it seemed strange and wrong that the world continued to spin, the sun continued to rise and set, and people went about their banal daily business as if everything hadn't come to an end.  It was so wrong, Tony wanted to…

Well, cry, he supposed, but he couldn’t do that.  He just _couldn’t_.  His dad had taught him not to, very successfully.  He hadn’t gotten much from the old man – no games of catch, no birthday parties, no camping out in the woods, but he _had_ gotten a crippling inability to laugh or cry, and a desperate need to pretend to be a playboy even though he was a virgin.

Thanks, dad. 

Tony bent back to the paper with a growl.   _Steve was a spectacular man and I loved him more than I loved anyone or anything.  I hate T’Challa to a degree that frightens me for letting him get killed._

No _._ Tony tore off the sheet, crumpled it in his hands, tossed it aside, and started with a fresh sheet. _If I had thought Steve had the slightest interest…_

He ripped that piece of paper off, too.

“How long is it going to take you to write a ten-minute speech?”

“It’s not easy,” Tony noted.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not used to giving dramatic speeches in public, or anything…”

Tony looked up at his own personal peanut gallery – the man sitting across the room, in a chair that was tilted back on the rear two legs.  His face was startlingly handsome under its shock of lank black hair.  His massive shoulders twitched as his agile hands played with a wicked-looking knife.

“This is different, and you know it,” Tony told him.

Their eyes met, and understanding passed between them.

“I hauled you out and got your brain straightened out for one reason, Sargant Barnes,” Tony added, levelly.

“You’re a lot less fun these days,” Bucky sighed.  “But I got it.  I’m in.  If T’Challa dares show his face, I’m gonna – how did you put it?  Take him into custody.”

“Yes.” Tony bent back to the paper.  Catching T’Challa was child’s play compared to summing up everything that was _Steve_ in a simple, short speech.

But what were superheroes for, if not attempting the impossible?


	7. Chapter 7

“He’s alive?”

“You’ve asked me that fifteen times, Iron Man,” T’Challa replied.  His mask gave him an impassive, settled mien.  It was exactly why Tony liked his suit, and it was annoying that someone else was doing the same trick, only better than him.  T’Challa’s voice didn’t betray him the way Tony’s did.  “He is alive.”

“Awesome!  So everything is good, now, right?  We’re buddies again, you and me?”  No need to arrest the guy, after all.

“Hardly,” T'Challa replied, levelly.

Tony settled irately into his seat.  He had just offered the man a little love, an olive branch!  Really, was it so unreasonable to be a little upset that T’Challa hadn’t taken it?

It didn’t help that T’Challa answered every conversational opening, every anecdote, every question of Tony's with a monosyllable or a shrug or a grunt.  What sort of reunion was this?  Well, it hardly mattered.  T’Challa was one thing, but Steve was another.  Tony was going to give him what would be a rib-crushing hug for anyone who wasn’t superhuman.  He’d give him more, but Steve wasn’t interested.  Nonetheless, though.  Connection.  A hug.  That was something, wasn't it?  It wasn’t _nothing_ , at least.

Wakanda arrived sooner than Tony had any reason to hope it might, but later than he really wanted it to.  T'Challa flew in towards the capital city, towards the massive central palace that also housed the Wakandan laboratory space.  Tony tried not to physically drool at the thought of what was in there – the biotech, the neural integration that Shuri was so famous for. It would be wonderfully synergistic with his own tech!  And perhaps, with Steve and T'Challa back, Potts could reboot that contract she had been working on...

But then, there was - _Steve_ , waiting on the landing pad.  Tony couldn’t stop staring as T’Challa brought them in for a landing.  The man stood there like he had every right to suddenly be alive again after the funeral, the eulogy – no, here he was, broad-shouldered and beautiful, clad in blue, and _he was alive_ , and all of Tony's body parts were reacting to it.

Tony leaped out of his seat once they touched down, then stood at the door, waiting for it to open, for the staircase to extend, for him to run out to Steve the way Steve had run to him on Battleworld.  To give him equally as large and effusive a hug, to watch _Steve’s_ face's turn not know how to deal with it the way Tony's hadn’t, to have the moment pass and to nod and be _friendly_ … but hey, at least there would be a hug!

Fingers on his shoulder, big and strong, with very sharp talons, holding him back.  “Be gentle.  He is still weak.  Shuri is upset that we are taking him on this mission.”

“Hey, it’s cool!  I’m just gonna give him a hug!  I just…”

“ _No_.” Both the voice and the grip were like iron, and that was _Tony’s_ thing!  How dare he steal it.  “Would you hurt him more?  Would you delay his recovery – or worse yet, take him back to the same damaged state we rescued him from?  Have a care, Iron Man. This is not about _you_.”

"Bu - buh I... hug... all right!  All right!  Gah!"  Tony threw his hands in the air with frustration, then stalked down the staircase, his face like thunder.

“Tony!” Steve smiled at him, cautiously, hopefully.  Well, Tony could learn.  He could follow instructions – now and then.  He strode up to Steve and held out his hand, firmly.  Steve took it, his face twisting interestingly.

Tony looked over his shoulder at T’Challa.  _There, see_?  He stalked back into the ship and sat in the passenger's seat, crossing his arms irately.  No hug.  He’d have to be extra careful of Steve, where they were going, to make sure he healed up properly.

Then, Tony could take him out for shwarma, and a proper hug.


	8. Chapter 8

"So this is shwarma?" Steve turned it in his hands.  "Never tried this.  It didn't make the list.  I made a list, you see, of things that I missed while I was in the ice, after I thawed out..." He was talking too much.  This was ridiculous.  Why had he accepted Tony's invitation?  It was clear that Tony wasn't interested in him.  If it hadn't been clear before, it was doubly so one Tony saw him after his miraculous resurrection - and had _shaken his hand_.  Really.

The man in question finished chewing and swallowing, wiping his hands and his beard on a paper napkin.  "Well, put it on the list, then cross it right off.  You had a good time with T'Challa? Gallivanting over the world, having adventures?"

T'Challa.  It was always about T'Challa.  Yes, it was fine that Tony was infatuated, but did he have to keep rubbing Steve's face in it?  They had plenty of time to get together while Steve had been... apparently dead.  Why hadn't they?  "Well, you know how it goes.  Long days.  Debriefing at night.  Then another long day."

Tony nodded, turning the shwarma in his hands.  His hands were so clever, so sure.  Steve got mesmerized by them, sometimes.  He would look at them, thinking about how their cleverness on metal would translate into cleverness on flesh, thinking about them on his body, on his private parts, and he'd get light-headed.  Probably all of the blood leaving it to go somewhere temporarily more important.  And was there any harm in _thinking_ about Tony that way, thinking about his hands and his mouth, thinking about how his beard might tickle Steve if they kissed, thinking about how he would touch Steve's body if Steve were inside of him, and using that as masturbation fodder?  But Tony was talking... Steve tried to catch up.

"...Peter had a few things to say, and you know, he's just a kid, but he's got a lot of insight for a kid.  So I tried to step back and think about it, and then Bucky..."

"Bucky!" Steve gasped.

"Yes, I forgot to mention that part, didn't I.  He's doing better these days, I got some of my guys to work on him, and yeah, he was asking about you..."

Steve grasped Tony's shoulder, eyes wide.  "Can I talk to him?"  Bucky was okay?  He was _himself_ again?  His best friend ever, so close, so loved.  This was another sort of resurrection, one that was perhaps even more meaningful, more profound!

Tony sighed, wrapping his shwarma back up in the foil in an overly elaborate gesture. "Yes, fine, wrap yours up, I'll take you back..."

Oh god.  Bucky.  He could see Bucky again.  And perhaps, after they had caught up, the man could give him a little romantic advice...


	9. Chapter 9

"You will rue the day you crossed spears with the Queen of Death!” Hela bellowed, her ire shivering the very air molecules.

Thor paused, then turned.  The hoards of undead soldiers who were running towards him stumbled to a slower pace.  Yes, they were undead, and technically there was no more for them to fear.  But nonetheless, there was something about the look of the Thunder God – his hair shorn, one eye gouged out, his own blood running down his face, blood that _wasn’t_ his running down his arms as he raised Stormbreaker in his mighty hands – that made the second go-around of death not really seem worth it.  They looked at each other, muttering uncertainly, pausing in their charge.

As Thor roared his defiance, their uncertainty turned to a certainty that whatever Hela had in store as a punishment for desertion was better than what Thor had in mind.  They turned and ran.

Thor laughed.  “Hela!  I have yet to rue!” he bellowed.

“That’s not how that word works, brother,” Loki grumbled.

“I care not!”  Thor turned, dragging Loki along the ground, one giant hand clamped around the trickster’s ankle.

“Let go of me!  I can walk perfectly well,” Loki protested, clawing at the hand.

“Nay!”  Thor mounted the rocks of the abyss that lead to Hela’s realm, clambering away.  “You have been dead for some months, brother!  You need rest!”

“This isn’t,” Loki’s head bounced off of a particularly sharp rock, “Ow!  This is not _restful_!”

“Aye, it is.”  Thor swung Stormbreaker, letting it bite into the rock above him and aid his climb.  “ _I_ will care for you, now.  You will want for nothing, brother!”

“Oh, for…” Loki turned into a sparrow to escape the general dragged-by-Thor-along-sharp-rocks situation, alighting gently on Thor’s shoulder.

“Ah, you have gone back to your shapeshifting, brother!”  Thor climbed steadily, leaving Hela’s realm far behind.  Once he reached the lip of the Abyss, he would be able to fly again, and this adventure would be at a satisfying end.  “I have experienced the same, myself.  Did I tell you about the time I was turned into a frog?”

“Only two and a half million times…” Loki chirped.  Sparrows couldn’t roll their eyes, he discovered to his chagrin.

“A grand adventure!  Delightful!” Thor bellowed.  “As was my rescue of you!  We will tell the Avengers of this story together, tonight, while we dine and drink and celebrate my victory!”

“Not a chance,” Loki twittered irately.  “They hate me.  I will _not_ dwell with them!”  They were mere Midgardians, but still – they could make life interesting in a way Loki didn’t enjoy.

“Come, brother, they love me!  I will vouch for you!”

“I invaded their city!” Loki noted. "I don't think they're going to overlook that as a minor mistake?"

“Well.... the man of iron enjoyed your company in the Battleworld, did he not?”

Yes, he had.  They had worked together, built together.  He was as sharp-tongued and bitter about his lot in life as Loki.  And it had been… _fun_.  “Nay, I refuse,” Loki tweeted back, with as much finality as a sparrow could muster.

“Well,” Thor paused, Stormbreaker buried in the rock above, “then live with me for a while, in disguise, and take the measure of the Avengers.  You will see that they are delightful companions!  And the food at the Tower is very good, as well.”  Thor’s stomach rumbled at the thought, and he redoubled his efforts.  They must return with haste!  Clint might be eating all of the pepperoncini in his absence!

“I will dwell with you for a short time,” Loki chirped archly, “until I find a better situation.”  He didn’t _need_ the Avengers.  He didn’t _need_ the friendship of the Iron Man.  He didn’t _need_ Thor!

“Excellent.” Thor swung out of the Abyss, feeling his powers return now that he was away from Hela’s influence.  He let the wind and the lightning fill him with power, bear him up in the air.  “Come, brother!  Let us find what trouble the Avengers have gotten into in my absence.  I do owe the Black Panther a grand debt, for launching me into the Abyss; else I might not have found you!” 

“Yes,” Loki chirped, as ominously as a sparrow could.   “I _owe him_ indeed.” 


	10. Chapter 10

“Hey, are you going to eat your eggs?” Clint asked, leaning close to Tony, pushing his own empty platter aside as he looked at Tony’s full one.

“Eventually.” Tony poked at the fluffy scramble without appetite.  Something about having a rather attractive woman jab tentacles into your brain seemed to have the effect of blunting his hunger.  It didn’t help that his only defense against having her suck all of the knowledge out of him was to fill his thoughts with something unhelpful to her and unrelated to her quest…

And specifically, the fact that the one thing that was highly unhelpful and unrelated, that could fill his brain utterly reliably no matter what was going on, was _Steve_.  The myriad memories he had of Steve.  Steve saving his life, Steve being ridiculously heroic, his jaw set, his shield upraised and ready to be used in defiance of the laws of physics that Tony had to deal with.  Steve at his easel, that little furrow in his brow as he mixed colors on his palette, then put his soul on the canvas, one painstaking stroke at a time.  Steve rolling his eyes at the latest tech Tony had come up with, that he would reject as _we did perfectly well without this for years_.  And jesus, the unprecedented look of unguarded delight that Steve had shown on Battleworld, and all of the lewd, unAmerican thoughts it had bred in Tony’s mind, that had fueled many a mastubatory fantasy since.  Dwelling on those lewd and unAmerican thoughts had irritated and distracted Madame Masque long enough…

“Penny for your thoughts?” Nat asked.  She was also staring at Tony’s uneaten eggs with avarice in her eyes.

“He’s a billionaire.  He can give them away for free,” Clint protested.  “Come on, Tony, dump ‘em out.”

T’Challa and Steve had stopped talking, Tony noted.  They had been thick as thieves for a while, murmuring quietly to each other, heads together, as Steve munched on his toast.  And now they were staring at Tony, along with Clint and Nat.  Thor was the only one of the group who seemed happy to simply eat breakfast, attacking his second platter like it was a Jotun warrior, putting his hand to his shoulder every now and then for no reason Tony could see.

Tony cleared his throat, realizing that the burden of conversation was falling, once again, to him.  And for once, he had something meaningful to say.  “So, the Secret Avengers…”

Steve waved his hand.  “No, they're not a thing anymore.  It was just to get the Key, and now that all that is done…”

“It’s fine,” Tony interrupted him, putting his fork down and leaning back.  “It’s… it’s fine.  I know, I’m The System now – I’m beholden to the government, the UN, all of it.” And that grated on Steve, Tony knew.  He needed to act in the interest of what he thought was right, apart from petty politics and diplomatic concerns.  “If you need to _Secret Avengers_ in the future… I know you, I trust you, do what you need to do.  Just – let me know you’re okay, that you’re safe.  That’s all that matters.”

It was rare to see Captain America at a loss for words, and Tony enjoyed it as he sipped a cup of coffee almost as dark and bitter as his heart.


End file.
